Friday, January 11, 2008

Waddle, Waddle, Pee, Pee. . . .

I remember being pregnant with my daughter.

I felt wonderful. It was almost euphoric.

Except. . . that I had to pee every ten minutes, except when I was at school, in which case I had solid classes from 7:45 until 12:30, and again from 1:00 until 3:30, and my classroom was a good quarter-mile from a restroom.

I can remember sitting at my desk at 12:35 and 3:35 afraid to move, because I was so scared I'd pee somewhere besides a bathroom. (I have a thing about peeing anywhere except in a bathroom.)

Finally, I'd muster enough courage to stand up and begin waddling down the hallway. The first restroom I got to was invariably closed for cleaning. Honestly? I think the janitor watched for me and hurried to put out the yellow cones and lock the doors. No amount of knocking or begging would help, so I quickly learned not to bother breaking my stride. If I stopped and then tried to go again, I might "go."

The next restroom was the one in the faculty lounge. The women's bathroom was almost always occupied by the resident immensely obese teacher that every secondary school is legally obligated to have, and she was there for the duration. If she wasn't in there, the janitor was; I think he crawled through the vents to get to the restrooms and close them, just so I couldn't pee.

That is why, almost every day at 12:45 and 3:45, I would be found emerging from the men's restroom with a big smile on my face.

We had a couple of other female teachers who regularly emerged from the men's restroom with a big smile on their faces, too, but it wasn't for the same reason.

My baby was due the third week of May, so I had a sub all lined up, plans made, copies copied, everything ready.

Somebody forgot to tell the baby, though; she didn't show up until June 15.

I worked until the end of the year and even went to a couple of auctions after school was out. The day before she was born, I fired up the riding mower and cut the grass.

My point? I don't think I ever apologized to the sub who didn't get to work after all and didn't get paid.

Sorry, Sub. Them's the breaks.

I feel so much better now.

P.S. Don't forget to enter this CONTEST!

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly